Pep Talk
by Child of Loki
Summary: The team's all ready to take on a field operation when Callen notices that they're missing one vital part. (Some Callen/Nell friendship with bonus sparkiness.)


**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**NCIS:LA **_**or its characters…**

**Author's Note: Sometimes, ideas just won't leave me alone. This was supposed to be a sweet little friendshippy moment between Nell and Callen… but they've been quite naughty in my head lately, so we ended up settling on this as compromise… **

**WARNING: References to mature subject matter, but no actual mature subject matter (I don't think… at least, I tried to restrain them from… well, you know…)**

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"What's the hold-up?" G Callen asked as he joined his team, all of them dressed to the nines, as they milled about their workspace. The gala would be starting in about 20 minutes, and while it might be in character for their covers to be fashionably late... he would prefer not to risk missing their target. Kensi, Sam, Deeks... all accounted for. Eric, in his standard tech geek fare, replete with tablet and Bluetooth, ready to back them up from ops... Nell. Where was Nell?

Sam gave him a sympathetic look, meaning he'd followed his partner's train of thought, but had no explanation to offer. So he looked to Kensi, who was as stunning as ever in an ankle-length, clingy, shimmering gown, doubtless plunging deep in the back to match the slit up the side, revealing one long, slender leg. Her hair and make-up were impeccable, and even her frown couldn't tone down her attractive features (Deeks had been outwardly ogling his partner since she'd first emerged from Wardrobe).

"Nell should be dressed by now," Kensi said.

It wasn't like the young woman to be tardy. And he couldn't see there being a problem with whatever attire Hetty had selected for the petite analyst. The old spy had impeccable taste and an uncanny sizing ability. So, was it a case of nerves? Nell Jones had proven her backbone to be made of steel in several tense situations, but she'd never been going into a field operation quite like this before, one in which she'd be blatantly on display, not sneaking about in the background. He tried to recall what it felt like his first time in such a situation, but there'd been so many undercover missions in his career. Hell, even before it was his job, he'd done nothing put play roles his entire life. But Nell was used to being much more genuine. Even her falsehoods were more simple evasions of the truth than outright lies and pretense. She must be feeling... exposed, vulnerable.

But he was going to be there for her this time. Dammit, he wasn't going to fail Nell Jones again. Twice before, he'd unknowingly left her in a dangerous predicament. But he should've known better than to leave a team member on their own with suspects at large. He was just lucky that she was smart and capable enough to get herself out of trouble. But he wasn't taking that risk this time. She was green. And she needed a partner to back her up. So... it might as well be him...

"I'll get her," he said, meaning, 'I'll bite the bullet and give the pep talk.' Although, it might be more of a Girl Thing and perhaps he _should_ send Kensi or Hetty... maybe she was finding her dress a little too... well, that was a thought he wasn't sure he should entertain. Nell was definitely a girl, and not a stranger to femininity, for certain. She wore dresses more often than not, with her cute cardigans to battle the chill of the AC. And she smelled like strawberries... Not that he'd intentionally been sidling closer to her during briefings in order to get a good strong draught of her appealing scent… Yes. Oh, yes. Nell was certainly a girl. But not a glamour one. She was a pretty young woman, but in the ridiculously adorable girl-next-door way. So, full-blown evening wear might not be within her comfort zone.

He hesitated in front of the curtain drawn across the changing area. _Where the hell to begin?_

"Uh... Nell?"

"Yeah." Her reply was uncertain, an uncharacteristic lack of confidence evident in its slight quaver. Try to keep it light, distract her from her anxieties, but don't ignore them.

"You ready to do this thing?"

"Just... Just give me a minute."

He silently counted to sixty in Russian, feeling a little impatient, but not wanting to pressure her. She was vital to the mission, and he needed her to be in the right mind set. So if she needed a minute or two to get her head on straight...

"Are you decent?" he asked, finally losing his supposed patience.

"What?"

"Dressed? Are you dressed?" Definitely failing to be patient with her.

"Yes, but-"

"I'm coming in." He hastily found the opening in the drapery and slipped inside before she could finish her protest, his jaw literally dropping when he laid eyes upon the red-haired pixie.

"Oh, god," she said, her cheeks flushing. "It's bad, isn't it? I knew I couldn't pull this off."

"N-" He cleared his throat, which had suddenly gone quite dry, swallowed hard. "No. You look amazing, Nell."

"You're just trying to get me out the door," she said before chewing her lip as she studied herself in the full-length mirror, turning just enough to offer him another breath-taking view. That- that dress would be the death of him. It didn't show a lot of skin. Nell was covered from the base of her neck to the floor. It sported little cap sleeves, not even leaving her arms completely bare. But, god, did it _cling_. It fit her like a glove, displaying every curve of her shapely little body, accentuating the flare of her hips by hugging her waist and tapering along her nicely formed legs to the knee until it flared in a slight fishtail. She was always covered in so many layers, that he'd never noticed her firm little heart-shaped bottom. Well, not _so_ little... Just... just right. _God, G, stop it._

She turned back to face him, still chewing her lip, which he'd always found to be an amusing tick of hers... until now. He tried to focus on something other than her pink, swollen, accosted lower lip. His eyes unfortunately wandered down instead of away from her.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

Damn him, he should've asked Hetty to talk to her, and suffered the impact of her shocking appearance in the midst of having enough other things, such as details of the operation to distract his thoughts. Instead, he found most of his brain focusing on the glory of that sea green dress and the petite yet alluringly curvaceous figure beneath it.

The filmy silk molded to the outline of her young, pert, _succulent_ breasts in a most startling fashion. Nell had never seemed the type to go without underwear, but those pretty round mounds obviously didn't need the support, settling into a beautiful natural slope culminating in- well, apparently, she was a little bit cold, because-

Time to put a halt to that train of thought before it derailed entirely and proved fatal to all parties concerned.

Nell Jones was nervous about their mission. And he was responsible for her in the field. Therefore he needed to make sure she was good to go on this... not covet the body she'd been keeping hidden away for all these years.

"Is there something specific you're worried about?" He asked, focusing on gentling the unwanted husky edge to his voice. _Team Leader_. Think _Team Leader_. Be _Team Leader_. NOT a man in the presence of a nymph who was undeniably one of the sexiest creatures he'd ever encountered. Not a _man_. Man second. No, third. _Team Leader. Fri-end_. "You've got this covered, Nell. You know what we're looking for, you know the plan, the layout, the back up protocols. And I'm going to be right there with you the whole time."

"I know," she said, and then bit her lip again.

"What is it, Nell?" He risked placing a (hopefully) comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn't just smell like strawberries. She smelled like a field of strawberries, a combination of sun-warmed fruit, fresh air and greenery. It was a little bit intoxicating. It made his head buzz.

Her small shoulder raised and then slumped beneath his palm as she shrugged, sighed, and then met his gaze with her own big, hazel eyes. The sea green of her dress made them sparkle more verdantly than their normal caramel brown hue.

"No one is going to believe we're a couple," she said, causing a pang to stab him in the stomach, like he'd been punched in the gut. And he wasn't sure why. "I mean, look at us."

She grabbed his arm and tugged him over to stand beside her in front of the mirror, pressing against his side, her arm wrapped about his. Callen thought they looked pretty good. He cleaned up nice, if he did say so himself. And Nell was a gorgeous, almost ethereal, fairie in that fricken filmy, fitted silk dress. Okay, so she outclassed him, but there would be plenty of middle-aged men there with trophy wives on their arms. Did she really think he looked so slovenly and worn down that it wasn't believable he could seduce the likes of her? (He suddenly suffered the compulsion to attempt to do precisely that, but stifled the urge with an iron will.)

"Nell, I know-"

The analyst interrupted him before he could apologize for forcing her to pretend to be his trophy wife, for assuming that she'd be willing to play the role, for presuming that they could pull it off when they were apparently so mismatched... even though he was sort of enjoying the way they looked together in the reflection of the narrow mirror, the way she fit snugly against his side.

"I mean I'm always going to look like the nerdy girl, no matter what you put me in," she said. "And I'm completely okay with that, except it just doesn't work for situations like this. I mean, you've got your whole sexy, charming, blue-eyed man of mystery thing going on..." she gestured to indicate the entirety of his image in the mirror. "...And then there's me. You think people are going to buy this?"

Callen laughed. He couldn't help himself. Here, he thought she'd noticed how stunning she looked compared to his slovenly self, but she thought that _he_ was the one who _outclassed_ her?! The irony was quite laughable. Except Nell seemed to think it was a real issue. And he knew the body image and self esteem issues that women, particularly younger women, often suffered. There would be no arguing with her if she couldn't see the beauty staring back from her reflection. So he had to ignore that whole can of worms (for now, anyway, because there simply wasn't time to prove to her how gorgeous she was... also, his idea of how to convince her she was eminently attractive was inappropriate at best.)

Rather, Callen decided to use the opportunity to impart some wisdom about playing undercover roles, or more frankly, conning people.

"Nell, all you have to do to be convincing is act like it's the truth, like you believe a sorry old bastard like me could win the heart of a pretty, clever young thing like you."

She blinked in surprise at his words. _Did she really not see that beautiful girl when she looked in the mirror?_

"I may be a little starry-eyed and naively hopeful at times, but I don't think I can even _pretend _to believe that you would-"

_Oh, to hell with this!_

He grabbed Nell's waist, trimmer and firmer than even the sleek dress implied, lifted her and set her on the sewing stool that was thankfully stashed just beside the mirror. She appeared to be startled to find herself lifted off her feet and deposited to stand almost eye level with him. He shocked her further, by taking her face in his hands and firmly pressing his lips against hers. After a second or two, she responded, her arms encircling his neck, her soft lips sliding against his, parting in a gasp as he kissed her, and sucked gently on that perpetually accosted lower lip of hers.

It was just meant to be a brief demonstration, to give her confidence that they could make a convincing couple, but the spark of attraction he'd felt over seeing her in that _damned_ dress flared into something more along the lines of actual physical chemistry as she kissed him back with rousing exuberance. He let it persist for far too long. But he'd discovered that she tasted of strawberries, too. Sweet, sun-ripened, wild ones, bursting with a complex flavor, rather than the either too sugary or too tart grocery store varieties. He darted his tongue between her lips, seeking an invitation she promptly granted, and the kiss deepened to an open-mouthed affair of the French persuasion.

Someone groaned, low and lusty. Whether it was he himself or the delicious, strawberry-flavored pixie in his arms, he'd never really know. But it was enough to make him release her and take a step back. Things may have gone too far. Sure, they could've gone _much_ farther, as parts of him were undeniably insisting. But as his rational brain pointed out, they had indeed gone farther than he'd intended. And the point was made, wasn't it?

"Is that convincing enough?" he asked, after catching his breath. Nell was still standing on the stool, her cheeks pink, her lips seductively swollen, and her eyes wide.

She blinked.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and he was momentarily extremely jealous of her teeth, wanting more than anything to nibble on the delectable bit of velvet-soft flesh himself.

"Uh... yeah," she said. "I think I can sell myself on us making a good couple."

"Good. Ready to do this, now?" he asked, mustering extra professionalism from somewhere he didn't know he possessed. Because maybe he'd helped Nell Jones get on board with their cover and the operation, but now, now his head was nowhere near on straight.

The things he did for the team. Yeah... he did it for _the team_.

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**A/N: Oh, how I love to write Callen being all flustered by finding himself unexpectedly attracted to Nell. It might be my favourite… if you couldn't tell…**


End file.
